


Faithfully

by winterwaters



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Ark AU, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Sexual Content, POV Multiple, Prompt Fic, Romance, Tumblr Prompt, mostly family related, otherwise just going off on my own here, some canon events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-22 06:52:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3719239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ark AU: Bellamy and Clarke meet in the Ark’s marketplace and can’t deny their attraction. Their relationship grows and strengthens as other things around them begin to crumble.</p><p>For a Tumblr prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agentrromanoff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentrromanoff/gifts).



> Thank you for this prompt! I’ve been wanting to write an Ark AU forever, so this was a lot of fun and kind of let me go to town :) I also threw in a couple other tropes because I wanted to. Events from canon are included in their own ways but this focuses solely on how they bond aboard the Ark before the inevitable trip to the ground. Anyways, really hope you enjoy!

The market was packed, as always. Clarke wandered through the crowd, smiling politely at those who recognized her as the trainee who’d patched them up more than once, or more likely, as the medical chief’s daughter. Absently, she wound a strand of hair around her finger - the same one that always seemed to unravel from her braid first, pins be damned. 

She wished one more time that Wells hadn’t left her alone today, but knew it was unavoidable. If not today, it might have been next week, or the following. He’d been courting Dana in secret for some time now, in the hopes that when she hit eighteen in a year they could marry. Clarke figured most people knew despite his attempts to be private. That was how things usually worked on The Ark. It was the girl’s choice, first and foremost. If she didn’t have a suitor by the age of eighteen, only then was she mandated to enter The Pact, the so-called advanced system that supposedly picked out a future spouse with an enviable success rate.

Clarke had to stop her snort at the thought again. Even though she had nearly two years before she reached the age herself, it never failed to get her all riled up - an argument she’d had with Wells one too many times, seeing as his father was the oft-unseen Chancellor who enforced this rule, among many others. _Why was the magic number eighteen? Why don't the boys have to worry about this? Why are the regulations different for each gender? Why why why?_

“Whoa, watch out there.”

Clarke stopped abruptly, mouth already open to apologize. The dark-haired girl stared back, more amused than anything else. “Someone might get burned by the steam coming out of your ears,” she grinned.

Surprised, Clarke ducked her head sheepishly. “Sorry about that. Guess I got lost in my thoughts.”

“Something tells me it’s not the first time,” came the dry response.

She grinned. “And not the last.” She held out a hand. “Hi, I’m Clarke.”

“Raven.” The other girl shook her hand with a firm grip. “You’re Abby’s daughter, right?” Of course she already knew. But then Raven surprised her. “Bet you’d be rich if you had a nickel for every time someone told you that, huh?”

Clarke laughed despite herself. “I wouldn’t even need nickels. Pennies would do just fine.”

Raven snorted. “I bet. I work in Mecha Station. Gonna be the youngest Zero-G mechanic there ever was.” Her confidence was appealing where so many others might have been off-putting. “When you’re not fixing up everyone else in the sick bay, you should come by. See what all the fun’s about.”

“I…” The denial was on the tip of her tongue, but what came out instead was, “I will. Thanks, Raven.”

“Good.” The girl nodded as if she always expected her to agree. “Try not to burn down the ship,” she said, tossing a wink over her shoulder as she strolled away.

Clarke was still grinning when a table of books caught her eye. Unable to stop herself, she pushed through the crowd, her fingers already itching to brush over the thick spines, her mind suddenly alert at the thought of a new story. More than anything, she was hungry for the descriptions, words that would create a picture in her mind that she could hopefully transfer to paper. Searching through the piles, her eyes snagged on a small book of mythology, the detailed cover of winged gods and fabled creatures she could only dream of. Transfixed, she reached out.

Just as her fingers touched the bottom, a large tanned hand wrapped around the top, and she looked up in surprise. 

The hand was attached to the long arm of a boy who had to be a few years older than her, dressed in the dark uniform of a cadet. His body was one thing, the strength and muscle obvious even under layers of clothing, but it was his face that captivated her. High cheekbones, sharp jaw with a crease directly in the center, and dark eyes set wide apart under a shock of hair black as the night sky.

She could draw him for days and it wouldn’t be enough.

Blood rushed into her cheeks when she realized she’d been blatantly staring, and she stepped back. “Sorry. Um, go ahead.” She motioned to the book.

“No, it’s fine.” The low timbre of his voice was unlike anything she’d ever heard. “It’s all yours, princess.”

Forgetting her shyness for a moment, she scrunched her nose. “Princess?”

He shrugged, a flash of bitterness crossing his face, and she immediately knew he recognized her. “If the shoe fits,” he said.

Now her eyes narrowed, feeling like she was the butt of a joke that she didn’t understand. “You don’t know a thing about my shoes,” she replied, possibly a bit stupidly. His eyebrows lifted. “And,” she tapped the book pointedly, “I would think the Greek gods would’ve taught you better than to presume anything.” 

“Really? Here I thought they’d just toss you over Mount Olympus without a second thought,” he said, though not without a trace of amusement.

She crossed her arms, refusing to be cowed. “Depends on which one you run into.” 

The boy studied her thoughtfully to the point that she wanted to squirm. “I suppose it does, doesn’t it?” He smiled suddenly, the action transforming his face. “As long as you don’t cross Zeus. He’d just send you over the edge without making any small talk whatsoever.”

“So this is supposed to be the small talk before you chuck me overboard?”

He tilted his head. “How do I know you wouldn’t throw me off first?”

Clarke lifted her chin. “You don’t.” The stern expression held for approximately four seconds before she crumbled, her mouth easing into a smile that mirrored his own. Leaning over, she pushed the book towards him. “Take it, really. I insist.”

Even though his fingers traced reverently over the cover, he paused a little, lips pursing as he studied her. “Why’d you want it?” He finally asked. There was only genuine curiosity in his voice, and so she found herself answering honestly.

“Mostly for ideas. I draw a lot. These stories always have the best descriptions, so…” She trailed off, shrugging. “It’s fine though. I have a pretty vivid imagination.”

Instantly, her cheeks colored, though she had no idea why. Trying to brush past the way his dark eyes were crinkling in silent laughter, she asked, “Why did _you_ want it?”

She only noticed the subtle change in his demeanor because she was paying far too close attention. His grip on the book tightened a little, the lines returning to his face. A muscle ticked in his jaw. Then, with the ease of practice, he rolled his shoulders and the nonchalant mask slipped back into place.

“My mom read a lot of mythology to me when I was younger. Now I’m always trying to find new stories to read to her.”

It was an unexpectedly sweet answer, and though she could tell it was the truth, her mind still lingered on the earlier reaction. He’d left something out on purpose, but what it was, she didn’t know. She had no idea why that bothered her as much as it did.

“Well,” she said after a moment, “all the more reason for you to have it then.”

“But what will you draw?” He asked.

“I’ll think of something.” She cast her eyes away before he could see that she meant _I’ll think of you._

Letting her gaze wander over the table, she hid her triumphant smile when he finally picked up the book. But then he was rounding to her side, and her heart leapt when he stopped right next to her. _Breathe, Clarke. Breathe._ Swallowing, she forced herself to look up. He wore a thoughtful expression, brows drawn together as he considered something. Then a corner of his mouth lifted in a lopsided grin.

“Maybe I can share the stories with you sometime. Give you some inspiration.”

“O-okay.” It rushed out of her in one breath, and maybe she was nodding a little too quickly, but it seemed to please him.

“Okay,” he murmured, and pushed away from the table, still smiling. “See you around, princess.”

It looked like the nickname was sticking whether she wanted it or not. (She wanted it.) Clarke rolled her eyes, refusing to smile until he was out of sight. Then she practically ran from the market, heading straight for her room. Grabbing her pencils and sketchbook, she threw herself into bed and drew his face from memory, losing herself in the scratch of pencil on paper long into the night.

~~~~~~~~~

It was three days before she saw him again. She was walking down the hall beside Wells, her arms full of schoolbooks and art supplies and arguing about the latest exam when they rounded the corner. In the middle of Wells’ rant, her eyes latched onto the head of dark hair at the other end of the hallway, the olive skin and polka-dotted freckles that had taken over her dreams to an embarrassing degree. He was walking alongside another man also in uniform, heading in their direction.

As if tugged by some invisible string, he looked up to find her gaze, eyes flickering in recognition. Then his companion tapped his arm, showing him something on a tablet. Clarke swallowed and made herself focus on Wells, nodding absently even though her brain was one hundred percent not listening anymore. Her hands clutched at the books, willing her feet to keep moving and her lungs to _keep breathing, for crying out loud._ It worked, for a few seconds. 

Until she tripped, and went flying.

The items tumbled out of her hands, scattering along the hallway as she threw her arms out to cushion her fall. She winced as she hit the cold floor, knees stinging in protest. 

“Clarke! Shit, are you okay?” Wells dropped to the ground beside her.

“Fine,” she wheezed. Still trying to get her breath back, she lay there an extra second, mortified. Then he was tugging her to her knees, and she brushed back the hair from her face, no longer in its braid. With a sigh, she began collecting her things, praying none of her art supplies had suffered for her clumsiness. It was easy enough to gather her schoolbooks, but her head twisted around looking for the one book that meant the most. Then she saw it.

Her sketchbook was lying open on the floor several feet away, directly at the feet of the boy she most did not want to see it. Her face burning with a blush, she watched as if, in slow motion, he leaned down to pick it up, handling it with care. She knew the moment he’d found her secret, his lips parting in a quiet breath, fingers tightening on the spine. 

_Oh my god._

Clarke let Wells pull her to her feet, distractedly nodding at his worried questions. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Really.” Her eyes remained on the cadet, who was now carefully tucking the loose papers back into place, and she held her breath as he looked up. There was no mockery, or even the overwhelming cockiness she’d been expecting. Just surprise, wrapped in a tender warmth that managed to steal her breath all over again.

He walked over and placed the book gently atop her pile. “That was quite the fall. You alright?”

“Yeah. Thank you, uh… ” Her eyes caught the name tag on his coat. “Blake?”

His mouth curled. “Bellamy.”

Oh. Of course, his tag would have his last name. _Bellamy._ Clarke smiled widely, uncaring that Wells’ stare was burning a hole into the back of her skull. “Thanks, Bellamy.”

“No problem. Try not to take any more spills, okay princess?”

“Easier said than done,” she replied, delighted by his low chuckle.

Nodding to her, then to Wells, he hurried to catch up with the other guard. Clarke bit her lip and held the books to her chest, letting the giddy feeling spread through her limbs.

“Okay, _what_ was that?” Wells demanded.

“Nothing,” she lied.

“Clarke-”

“Wells, don’t start. We met at the market the other day, and now I know his name. That’s it, alright?” _Bellamy,_ her heart sang joyfully. “So come on, what were you saying about question 21?”

~~~~~~~~~

When Clarke walked into the medical unit several mornings later, her head was buried in her notes as she rounded the corner and promptly crashed right into a tall form. She squeaked, fingers immediately digging into his arms as everything else fell to the floor.

“Whoa, easy there. I got you.” Startled, she looked up into Bellamy’s amused eyes and felt off-kilter all over again. “You really are a klutz, princess.”

“Hi,” she breathed.

“Hi.” He smiled. It took her a few seconds to realize she was standing in the circle of his arms, still holding onto him. And boy did she never want to let go. Bellamy seemed to realize it at the same time, stepping back and clearing his throat a couple times. The tips of his ears were colored, and she took comfort in knowing they were both in uncharted territory.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, leaning down to pick up her papers.

“Switched shifts with one of the guys for the day. I owed him a favor.”

“Oh. Okay.” She was still grinning when her mother called her name from across the room. She sighed. “Duty calls. I gotta go.”

“I’ll be here,” he replied.

And he was. He lingered throughout the day, being a complete and utter distraction without even opening his mouth. It took everything Clarke had to focus on counting each stitch, not rushing through patient histories, and remembering dosing information as her mother quizzed her at random moments. And despite all that, Bellamy’s presence just across the room ensured that she tripped at three separate points during the afternoon. Even her mom stopped her at one point to inquire after her health, but she cheerily waved her off and continued her work.

Finally, it was the end of her shift, and she reminded her final patient to come back the following week before filing the chart accordingly. Stretching, she took a glance around the room, noting her mom had already left, and the night staff was beginning to filter in. She wandered over to where Bellamy stood.

“Do you like honey-roasted peanuts?” 

“Excuse me?”

“Honey-roasted peanuts,” she repeated. “Do you like them?”

His brow scrunched. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “Never tried ‘em.”

“Today’s your lucky day then.” Clarke reached into her small bag and pulled out a packet, holding it out to him. He’d barely had a bite to eat all day, she knew because she’d been watching, and she didn’t like it. “Seriously, please take them from me. My mom insists on giving me one pack a day and I pretend to like them but I really can’t stand them.”

Bellamy quirked his head to the side. “Why do you pretend then?”

She shrugged. “Don’t want to hurt her feelings, I guess. Plus she worries too much. If they start to pile up I’ll get another lecture on eating properly.”

After a long moment, he took the packet from her. “It’s not a bad thing, you know,” he said, tearing it open. “Having someone look out for you.”

“I know that. But the way she goes about it… I don’t know. Sometimes I just feel suffocated, I guess.” She’d never said the words aloud before, but somehow it felt safe to tell him. “Anyways. Go ahead, try them.”

He popped a couple in his mouth, eyes lighting up at the sweet taste. Chewing quickly, he reached for more. Clarke smiled happily. “I thought you’d like them,” she declared, then flushed instantly when his eyes gleamed.

“Did you now?” Bellamy asked, grinning crookedly.

“Shut up,” she muttered. Still, she bounced on the balls of her feet, not willing to leave just yet. “So are you stuck here all night?”

“Nah, I’ll be relieved in a couple hours, I think.” She nodded and was searching for a topic, when he said, “You’ll make a great doctor.” Her head lifted in surprise. “If that’s what you want,” he added quickly. 

“What makes you say that?” She asked.

“Well, you’re obviously very intelligent, and you’ve got good hands-”

“No, not that. The second thing. ‘If it’s what you want.’”

“Oh.” Bellamy rubbed his neck, sheepish. “I just… it’s pretty clear you love art, too. And you’re obviously talented.”

Clarke gaped for a full minute, her cheeks warming to an unsafe degree. Nobody had ever made it sound like she had a choice between the two, or that it would even be a valid one. Not until this moment. But he made it seem like anything was possible.

“Thank you,” she finally whispered. Relieved, he smiled back. Then her brain retraced his earlier words, and she grinned, feeling mischievous. “Did you say I have _good hands?_ ”

It was his turn to avert his eyes, determinedly staring over her head as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “I didn’t- uh, I just meant they’re steady, and you know, that’s good, since you’re holding scalpels and needles and shit.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” 

Bellamy rolled his eyes and poked her side, grinning at her loud squeak. Gladly, she noted the bag of peanuts was almost empty, and made a mental note to store extra for next time. _Wait. Next time?_ Clarke opened her mouth without thinking.

“Are you going to be here tomorrow?” 

“Not sure. They tend to rotate us as needed. Especially the trainees, we don’t really get to choose an assignment.”

“Right, of course.” She peeked up hopefully. “Guess I’ll see you later?”

Bellamy nodded. “See you, princess.” It was getting harder and harder to pretend she minded the nickname. She’d only taken a few steps when he said, “Hey Clarke?” The sound of her name uttered in his low voice warmed her to her toes.

She turned. Hesitantly, he held up the now-empty packet of food. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She left with the nagging suspicion that he’d learned more about her than she realized, but soon decided she didn’t mind. As long as she got more chances to do the same.

~~~~~~~~~

The next week, she finally had an afternoon to herself, with her parents preoccupied by work and Council matters. So she set off for Mecha Station, searching for Raven. It didn’t take long to find her, following the sound of her distinctive loud voice to the lab, where she currently stood toe to toe with a taller blonde guy whose voice was also steadily rising.

Clarke stood in the doorway for a full minute before they noticed her. Raven brightened immediately. “Clarke! I thought you’d forgotten all about me.”

“Not possible,” she replied, smiling. Talking to Raven was easier than any of the other girls. Maybe because she wasn’t like any of the others. “Sorry it took me a while to get away. But if I’m interrupting-”

“No, not at all. Just a work disagreement.” She leveled a glare at her companion, who merely glared back. 

“Wick,” he said shortly, and brushed past Clarke. She assumed that was his name, and not just a sound he made on a daily basis.

“Damn engineers,” Raven muttered.

“Damn mechanics,” came his loud bellow.

Clarke’s eyebrows flew up as Raven pulled her inside. “Ignore Wick. He’s smart, but he’s an idiot." She didn't bother explaining that oxymoron. "So how are you?”

“Same as ever, I guess.” _Liar!_

Raven narrowed her eyes. “Hmm. I don’t think so. Something’s different.” At her questioning look, Raven elaborated, “You don’t look like you want to jump out the the window anymore, for one.”

She winced. “Was I really that obvious?”

“Only to me, I guess. Most people don’t seem to notice anything around here unless it slaps them in the face. Literally.” Raven took a pile of things off a stool, gesturing for her to sit. “Care to tell me what it was that got you so worked up?”

Glumly, Clarke toyed with a protractor on the table. “I was thinking about The Pact.”

“Oh. That bullshit. Yeah, that’ll do it.” 

Clarke couldn’t help but look around. You never knew who was listening, these days. Raven caught her. “Relax. It’s not the first time I’ve said so, and it won’t be the last. Plus, I’m pretty sure I’ve said worse.”

That made her laugh softly. “Yeah. Well, my friend’s dating someone right now and it’s all hush-hush, you know. She’ll be eighteen in a few months. I just… ugh, I hate everything about it.”

“I knew I liked you for a reason.” Raven nudged her with a brittle smile. “And I couldn’t agree more. It’s archaic. They should call it The Plight instead if you ask me. Sometimes I wonder if our technology has advanced more than our brains.”

“It’s so unfair. Half the people I know just picked someone they were friends with to get out of being entered into that stupid program. Some of them even got married _early._ Hell, I would have done the same, if my one friend wasn’t already in love.”

“Tell you what, if you hit eighteen and still don’t have anyone - highly unlikely, by the way - you better pick _me,_ ” Raven declared, and they both dissolved into giggles. “But seriously,” Raven said after they’d caught their breath, “you really can’t think of one person you’d choose? I mean, hell, I hate Kyle but even he’d be better than some random algorithm’s choice.”

“Kyle?” Clarke asked curiously. To her immense delight, Raven stuttered for a few seconds. Thinking fast, she put two and two together. “ _Wick?_ Aha! I knew there was something going on!”

“There is _nothing_ there,” Raven said unconvincingly. At her disbelieving snicker, Raven shoved her good-naturedly. “You didn’t answer my question. Nobody onboard this thing that you’d choose, if you had to?”

When Clarke looked away, unable to stop her mouth from lifting up, Raven pounced. “Yes! I knew it! Who is he?”

“It’s not even like that,” she protested weakly. “I just met him like, two weeks ago. We’ve only talked a few times since.”

“However true that may be, the gooey look on your face does not occur with just _anyone._ So?” Raven prodded. “Who is he?”

She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to lower her voice, but the words were a whisper. “A cadet, in training. His name is Bellamy.”

“A guard? Damn, girl. You better point him out to me next time. I have _got_ to see this guy for myself.”

She only shook her head. To her relief, Raven had no shortage of topics, or opinions, and she spent the next few hours alternately listening or debating. When Raven learned of her love of art, she immediately tore a paper from a notebook and handed her a pencil. With a grin, Clarke settled into the corner to draw. And before she headed back to her own quarters for dinner, she left a sketch of Raven and Wick behind, giggling in satisfaction at Raven’s muffled curse.

~~~~~~~~~

She began to run into Bellamy more often. Whether it was his doing or whether she was just exploring more than she ever had, Clarke wasn’t quite sure. Maybe it was a bit of both. She kind of hoped it was both. 

But with her parents busier than ever and Wells preoccupied with Dana’s rapidly approaching birthday, she found herself with extra time on her hands. She’d gone to visit Raven more than once, enjoying her company immensely. But the most recent time she’d visited, Wick’s low voice had made her pause a few feet from the door. And when Raven’s reply got abruptly cut off, instinct taught her to back away.

Which was how she found herself wandering the halls of the Ark, having figured out all too easily that Bellamy’s rotating shifts took on a distinct pattern. Because of that, he wasn’t surprised when she rounded the corner, having done the same thing for three days straight now.

Wordlessly handing him a pack of peanuts, she leaned against the wall next to him. “The story last night reminded me of you,” he said eventually. She glanced up curiously, but he wasn’t looking at her. There was, however, fondness in his expression, and it made her inch closer.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Let’s see,” Bellamy tapped his chin in mock thought. “A girl’s family insists on holding a tournament for her potential suitors, and she ends up disguising herself as a man and beating them all soundly.”

Clarke grinned. He knew her opinions on marriage all too well by now, just like she knew his. Guards were exempt from most of those rules, though not forbidden to marry if they decided. But they at least had a choice. “I would totally be friends with her,” she declared. 

“I’m sure you would,” he replied. “Best part? She’s a princess too.”

She rolled her eyes, still smiling despite herself. “That doesn’t sound like mythology,” she said instead.

“Nah, this was definitely more of a fairytale.”

“You don’t strike me as a fairytale kind of guy.” 

“They’re not my first choice,” he agreed. “But O-” He stopped abruptly and began coughing, the sound echoing loudly in the empty hall.

“Hey, whoa,” Clarke gently patted his back until he nodded and held up a hand. She passed him a bottle of water, half of which was gone in one gulp. “Easy,” she warned. He took the next sip a little slower, his chest rising and falling until he finally settled into a steady, if shaky rhythm.

“Shit. Sorry about that,” he murmured.

“No, it’s okay. Trust me, I’ve had my share of peanuts go down the wrong pipe,” she grinned.

“Yikes. Let’s keep that to a minimum, alright?” Bellamy leaned back against the wall, eyebrows wiggling. “Good thing I had a doctor with me just in case.”

“Not a doctor yet,” she reminded him, but he dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

“Please. You’re miles ahead of everyone else in your year. I bet you already have a favorite anatomical system.” When Clarke bit her lip and glanced away, his eyes lit up. “Ha! I knew it. Tell me tell me tell me…” He poked her side repeatedly until she gave in with a laugh and launched into an eager description of the nervous system.

It didn’t occur to her until that night, when she was lying awake replaying the interaction, that he’d completely managed to distract her from finishing their discussion of fairytales.

~~~~~~~~~

Clarke walked down the hall slowly, careful to check around each corner. The container of soup in her hands was shut tight, she’d made sure of that before leaving her room, but all it would take was one bump and she’d have a huge mess on her hands. As usual, the universe seemed more than ready to deliver on that front.

“Agh!” She narrowly avoided plowing right into Wells, half-pirouetting to keep her balance. “Look where you’re going,” she scolded, all the while checking the carton for leaks.

“Sorry, sorry.” His eyebrows drew together as he took a sniff. “Whatcha got there?”

“Nothing, just some soup.” She tried to stay casual, though she hadn't have bothered.

“But we already had lunch earlier…” Wells put two and two together far too quickly. “Oh my god. You _cooked_ for him.” His voice echoed through the hall in disbelief. 

“Ssshhh,” she hissed, making him grin widely. She'd finally introduced Wells to Bellamy not long ago, and, being the guys they were, the first meeting had been full of sidelong glances and a lot of sizing up until she threatened to knock their heads together if they didn't stop acting like children in a sandbox. It was a little easier after that, especially once Wells discovered just how well-read Bellamy was, though he took endless pleasure in teasing Clarke about her crush when they were alone.

“I didn’t cook,” she clarified after checking around them. “Mom and I happened to make a ton of soup and we had leftovers, and he’s been sick for a week now. So, whatever okay, I just wanted to do something nice.” She grumbled and picked at the lid until he patted her shoulder.

“It is nice, Clarke.” He held up his hands in surrender when she glared. “It _is,_ I mean that. It’s just, I never expected… you know.”

“Yeah, yeah.” _That makes two of us._ “So how’s everything with Dana? Ready for the big day?”

He chuckled. “As I’ll ever be I guess. I can’t believe it’s going to be here so soon. I used to think we'd never get here, you know? But I’ll tell you more later.” Slyly, he stepped aside. “Don’t want to get in your way or anything.” 

Because her hands were too full to shove him, she settled for stepping on his foot as she passed by, but she was smiling anyways. When she finally turned down the hall to Bellamy’s quarters, she sighed in relief. It was only after Clarke had knocked on the door that she heard the low murmur of conversation from within stop abruptly.

Seconds later, Bellamy’s terse voice sounded. “Who is it?” 

“Hey, um, it’s me. Clarke.”

Suddenly nervous, she hopped on the balls of her feet as she heard some shuffling come from inside. The strained reply had been unexpected, and honestly, worrying. She shouldn’t have come by unannounced. It was impolite and probably weird and what if he-

The door opened just enough for Bellamy to slip outside to join her in the hall. “Hey princess.” The edge was mostly gone from his voice, though his eyes darted around them for an extra moment. Then he coughed, like he’d been doing for the past several days.

“Hi. Sorry, am I interrupting?”

“No, no. My mom’s just resting. I think she caught my germs.”

“Oh. Well, I just, uh…” she held out the container, nodding for him to take it. “It’s soup. Figured you could use some, with the way you’ve been hacking up a storm everywhere you go. There’s enough for your mom, too, if she’d like it.”

Bellamy looked quizzically from her to the food, then back again, a strange light entering his eyes. “You made me soup?”

“What? No, I…” Clarke scrambled, blushing. “We - mom and I - made a ton for the week, and I figured, since we had extra…” She didn’t add that it had been her idea to make soup in the first place, knowing all too well they’d have leftovers. 

A corner of his mouth lifted and he nodded. “Well thanks for thinking of us. We can certainly use it.”

“Sure.” They stood there for a minute longer, a little awkward but mostly just not knowing what to do with their feelings, and she’d just decided to flee when Bellamy cleared his throat.

“Clarke, I’d invite you in, but I really don’t want to get you sick or anything.” He smiled crookedly, making her heart leap. “Don’t want the chief coming after me for infecting her daughter.”

The tension eased, and she giggled. “She’s not as scary as she looks, I promise. It’s okay though. I know you guys need all the rest you can get.”

“Yeah. But…” he raked a hand through his hair. “Next time, okay? When we’re not all gross and contagious.” 

“Yeah. Next time.” She beamed. “Get better soon.” 

With a small wave, she headed back to her quarters, trying not to skip the entire way to the tune of _next time._

~~~~~~~~~

Bellamy kept his promise. It wasn’t long before she met his mother, Aurora, a woman with an easy if tired smile and endless warmth. Not unlike her son, Clarke thought. She was a seamstress, often repairing clothes while Bellamy read stories aloud or talked about his training. Her pride was evident in the way she watched him. 

Clarke loved the chance to glimpse this part of him that most others didn’t know about. And for a while, she thought he was pleased by her interest. Especially once Wells was officially a married man, and his duties to his wife eclipsed anything else. She’d known it would be like that - and she wasn’t bitter, really. Not for him. He seemed happier than ever, and that was all she could have asked for her best friend. Plus, she was fairly distracted by Bellamy, and the possibility of what might be happening between them.

But it was after her fourth home visit that Bellamy began to withdraw, little by little. At first she chalked it up to being busy or stressed by work. It was understandable after all. Guard training was notoriously rough, and the cadets took the brunt of the tasks no one else wanted. And sometimes she thought she caught him in the midst of an argument with his mother, though she couldn't be entirely sure. It wasn't something she pressed him about, knowing from experience how it could be a sore topic.

But then she started paying closer attention, noticing that _she_ seemed to be the common factor in every situation that he'd appeared closed off or irritated, and that made her worry. His responses were more curt, he stopped lingering when she ran into him, and there was a distance in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

It made her feel cold and strange, and soon enough, angry.

So when she marched down the hall to his quarters that night, she was planning on giving him a piece of her mind. Her knuckles rapped on the door twice. “It’s Clarke,” she said automatically, because she was used to them asking every time.

As usual, it took a few moments for him to get to the door, and when he did his face was drawn and hooded. “Hey. What’s going on?”

 _”What’s going on?”_ She hissed. “That’s seriously all I get?”

His brows drew together. “Clarke, what-”

“Get out here,” she demanded. At his look, she sighed. “You’re clearly not letting me in, and I’m not letting you go until you hear what I have to say, so just get out here already.”

More hesitant than she’d ever known him to be, Bellamy finally eased outside, closing the door behind him with finality. Before he could speak, the words flew out.

“What did I do wrong? Did I say something? Should I not have made that joke about the stations the other day?” His mouth opened, but she rushed on. “You haven’t spoken to me in _days._ And normally I wouldn’t care except that I thought maybe we were friends and I brought you freaking soup and now I feel really stupid, so if you don’t care to continue… _this,_ ” she motioned to the space between them, “can you just tell me now?”

Bellamy’s eyes were wide with alarm by the time she finished. Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she stared at her feet, annoyed that she now felt silly. Her emotions were a damn seesaw around this boy. Quietly she said, “I just… I missed you, alright?” 

He stepped close enough that she might have been able to feel his chest move as he took a long breath. “Clarke,” his voice was unexpectedly gentle. “Of course we’re friends,” he said softly.

“Then why have you been shutting me out?” She asked stubbornly. 

When he didn’t answer after a full minute, she looked up to see his throat bob as he swallowed. The alarm on his face had been replaced by anxiety, forehead crumpled deep in thought. Then he glanced down the hall, even though it was clearly empty.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when he tugged at her arm, his fingers sliding down to clasp hers. There was no resistance when he pulled her inside his quarters. Releasing another deep breath, Bellamy said, “I’m… There’s something you don’t know. That nobody knows, except for me and mom. And, I want to tell you. I’ve been arguing with myself about it for weeks.” He smiled shakily. “But... I trust you. I want you to know.”

Clarke nodding, sensing just how important this was. But nothing could have prepared her for the shock that followed when they entered the second room and he dragged the carpet aside to reveal the outline of a trap door. Without preamble, he swung it open.

“Bell?” A girl’s voice sounded timidly, stunning Clarke to the core.

“Hey, O. Sorry about that.” _O._ Alarm bells went off in her head. With a final look at her, Bellamy held out an arm. “Come on up.”

Seconds later, a girl stood next to him, staring in equal shock at Clarke. He slung an arm over her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Clarke, this is my sister, Octavia.”

 _Sister. Oh my god._

“O, this is Clarke.” 

_Sister._ The word rang like a gong through her mind, echoing louder each time. Bellamy had a sister. _Jesus christ._ But… part of her mind piped up, what difference did that make? He was still her Bellamy, through and through, and if anything this just made him make more sense.

Wait. _Her_ Bellamy?

When someone cleared their throat, Clarke realized she’d been standing there for too long without saying a thing. Recovering from her shock, she stepped closer and held out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Octavia. That’s a pretty name.”

The girl smiled, almost a mirror of Bellamy’s as they shook hands. “Big brother picked it out. Never lets me live that down.”

He tweaked her nose in reply while Clarke grinned. “I bet.” Looking between them, she asked, “So… do you… um-”

“Live down there?” Octavia nodded wryly. “Pretty much.”

“Shit,” she breathed. She held her gaze. “I’m so sorry.” _Sorry that this was necessary, sorry that I understand, sorry that this is our life. Sorry sorry sorry._

The siblings seemed to relax then, as they all came to a shared understanding. Octavia came forward, her gaze turning sly. “I have to admit, I’ve been dying to meet the girl that’s got my brother wrapped around her finger. He won’t shut up about you.”

Cheeks pink, Clarke opened and closed her mouth without a word, while Bellamy glared at the back of Octavia’s head. “Thanks a lot, O.”

“Welcome,” she replied cheerily. He shook his head, shooting a rueful grin at Clarke, who shyly smiled back.

“Wait.” Her brain nearly tripped over itself. “The book was for you, wasn’t it?” She looked at Octavia. “All the mythology stories?”

When the girl nodded, Clarke surprised them both and reached out to pull her into a tight hug. “In that case, I’m twice as glad that I let him take it.” 

~~~~~~~~~

In the days that followed, she became well-acquainted with Octavia, who was all too eager to have someone else to talk to. Bellamy often returned to find them both cross-legged on the floor, heads bowed over yet another book, or in some cases, one of Clarke’s latest drawings.

Octavia had no shortage of stories, mostly imaginary, but when she noticed that Clarke’s interest was peaked by an anecdote about Bellamy, it wasn’t long before those began to spill out in earnest. How he used to read to her before bed, how he taught her to play cards until she could beat anyone blind, the extra honeyed peanuts he’d recently started bringing her. Until that point, Clarke hadn’t realized it was possible to fall for someone so deeply without having even touched them.

One day Clarke showed her a drawing of Earth, or at least, her version of it, and Octavia sighed dreamily, her head falling to Clarke’s shoulder.

“What do you think it’s like, Earth?” Octavia asked.

She hummed. “I don’t know. Incredible, unpredictable. A breeze on your face, fresh air in your lungs. Grass beneath your feet.”

They were still sitting there when Bellamy came back from shift, smiling adoringly when he saw them. Settling down on the floor, he studied Clarke’s drawing while she held her breath.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, eyes flicking up.

“She is, isn’t she,” Octavia chimed in, and Clarke reddened like a tomato. “You know Clarke, I think you should draw Bell sometime. I bet you’d do him justice. Don’t you agree big brother?”

She stared hard at her lap, fixating on the faded pattern of her jeans until he finally said, “I’m sure she would.”

~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks later, Clarke stretched and yawned, reaching for the final patient chart of her shift. 

“Look alive, sleepyhead,” came Bellamy’s whisper. She stuck out her tongue, hearing his low chuckle. He’d been there all day, having switched posts again with one of the others. She hadn’t exactly been able to hide her glee when she walked in after class and saw him standing there, and to her immense pleasure he’d returned her smile with a large one of his own.

The shift had been a busy one, with addtional patients from earlier in the day being delayed more so than usual. The blonde boy she now approached was one of those, she guessed from the grumpy look on his face. If she hadn’t been so exhausted, the glint in his eye might have warned her off.

“Hello Mr.-”

“Hurry up and do this, doc. I’ve been here for hours,” he snapped.

Out of the corner of her eye, Clarke saw - practically felt - Bellamy straighten, automatically on alert. “I’m sorry about that,” she replied smoothly. 

He snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure you are.” 

She studied his chart, not seeing an immediate injury. “So what brings you here?”

“I need the drugs,” he answered. The hair rose on her neck as she registered his gaunt face, the redness in his eyes, his long sleeves. _Shit._ Where was Jackson when she needed him? Clarke took a quick glance around, meeting Bellamy’s eyes for a split second. 

“The drugs,” she repeated slowly. “Can you be more specific?”

“Don’t fuck with me, lady, I know you have them,” he growled, getting to his feet.

Bellamy was beside her in an instant, an arm shoving her behind him as he towered over the boy. “You want to rethink that statement?” He asked tightly.

She gripped his jacket, glaring over his shoulder at the patient until he finally sat down. When Bellamy still didn’t move, she tapped his side until his eyes slid to hers. “It’s fine,” she murmured. Worry clouded his expression, a muscle ticking in his jaw. After a moment, he stepped to the side, but didn’t move any further. She inched forward again. “Look,” she began carefully, “I can’t just give you any medicine. I need to know what’s hurting. At least tell me that much.”

The boy grunted. “I have a running thing, okay? Whatever it is you people call it. Chronic? Yeah. I just need some of that morphine, a quick shot. Works every time.”

An idea formed in her head. She lifted her chin. “Alright,” she agreed, seeing the flash of eagerness in his eyes. “Give me a sec to prep the right dose.”

Taking an empty syringe from the drawer, she went to the shelf. She pretended to sift around for the bottle though she knew exactly where it was. In the meantime, her eyes searched for the sedatives, all the while feeling the air thicken with tension. As soon as she located one, she plucked it off the shelf and filled the syringe, giving a few quick squirts to make sure it worked correctly.

Turning back, she approached the cot tentatively. His eyes were fixated on the needle, fingers bunched in the sheets. Clarke forced her hand to remain steady as it neared his neck. She was close, so close--

“How dumb do you think I am?”

She only had a moment to snap shocked eyes to his before he grabbed her wrist, twisting so viciously that she cried out and dropped the needle. His elbow connected with her cheek, sending her to the floor. Momentarily stunned, her lungs heaved for air. 

A struggle sounded behind her. She twisted onto her back to see Bellamy slamming the younger boy onto the cot. Though Bellamy was taller and stronger, the boy had no shortage of rage and refused to go down without a fight. Clarke scrambled for the needle that had fallen under the cot and pulled herself to her feet, sinking it into his neck without pause. His grip on Bellamy’s shirt went slack, eyes rolling back. Then he stilled.

Breathing heavily, she slumped to her knees again, the adrenaline draining out in a rush. Bellamy knelt in front of her, warm hands cradling her face.

“Clarke,” he said, ragged. She leaned into his touch with a wordless murmur. He traced her bruised cheek with shaking fingers, a small breath leaving his lips. 

Without warning, he wrapped her in a fierce hug. She sat there like an idiot for several seconds, only able to process how the tiny patch of skin that peeked out above his collar was soaked in sweat. But when Bellamy started to pull back, Clarke’s body jumped into gear and she was suddenly holding him tightly, fingers bunching in his shirt. His harsh sigh sounded in her ear. After a few moments her hands began to brush along his back, trying to ease the tension that had him wound tight. 

“I’m okay.” Her whisper was muffled into his chest, so she lifted her head a little. “I’m okay, Bellamy.”

“I know,” came his trembling reply. “I mean, my brain knows. But just… give me a second to convince the rest of myself, okay?”

“Okay.” She sank into his embrace, squeezing him with an otherworldly force, all too aware that he was returning the favor. 

~~~~~~~~~

It took nearly a week to convince her father to let her back into medical. “Dad, I promise, I _swear,_ I’m fine,” she pleaded again four nights later. “It’s a bruise, that’s it. The kid had problems, more than any of us could imagine. And the he’s gone now, he’s locked up. Bellamy made sure of that.”

Her mother stood to the side, wary but silent. Clarke wasn’t sure whose initial reaction had been worse - her father’s yelling or her mom’s quiet terror. She tugged at her dad’s sleeve until he looked back at her. “I can take care of myself. I’m not a child anymore.”

“No,” he breathed sadly, “I guess you aren’t.”

When she finally entered the medical unit two days later, she ignored the curious and not-so-subtle gazes until she latched onto a familiar pair of eyes in the corner. Her mood lifted in the span of a single heartbeat as she strode over to Bellamy.

“Hey stranger. Long time no see.”

He allowed himself a tiny smile, gaze lingering on her cheek despite the cover-up. “Right back at you, princess.”

“I know. The parents have been keeping a pretty close eye on me since…” She shrugged. “Anyways, what are you doing here? Don’t tell me you swapped again.”

“No, actually, I was going to,” he admitted, and she grinned. “But then I was told I’ve been reassigned here. Permanent, at least for the foreseeable future.”

Clarke’s eyebrows nearly flew off. “Seriously? How…?”

Bellamy shook his head. “No idea. Though, if I had to guess, I’d say your mom had something to do with it.”

She let out a surprised breath. “Shit. I didn’t think… wow. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for her to do that without even asking you.”

“The thing is,” he fidgeted for a long moment, “she did ask me, indirectly.” When Clarke gaped in surprise, he rushed on. “She came by the other day while I was on shift. Mom answered, and they talked for a while, I guess. She was leaving when I came home, and she thanked me, then asked if I might be okay with a more permanent arrangement now that I’ve completed training.”

Then Bellamy smiled, leaving her breathless for an entirely different reason. “Besides, who knows how much trouble you’d get into without me.”

Her jaw dropped and she propped her hands on her hips. “Liar. You’d probably start it, for all I know.”

“Well, duh. Can’t let you have all the fun, princess.”

~~~~~~~~~

She was sitting in the second room with Octavia, heads bent over the mythology book, when the front door opened, then slammed shut. Their heads snapped up. Bellamy strode in hurriedly, panic written all over his features. He hauled Octavia to her feet.

“Surprise inspection,” he said, and Clarke’s blood ran cold. “Mom’s stalled them down the hall but we’ve only got a minute, two at most.”

Horror rose inside Clarke as she watched the two slip into their practiced roles. Octavia hid the few things she’d taken out while Bellamy opened the trap door. She jumped in, huddling down as he closed it quietly. “Where’s the rug?” He asked urgently. When Clarke didn’t reply right away, he shook her. “Clarke, the rug!”

“Your mom took it for washing. She didn’t think- this wasn’t scheduled-”

“Shit. Shit shit _shit,”_ he swore.

Clarke looked around, her mind spinning. There had to be something they could do. This couldn’t be it. It couldn’t. Watching Bellamy’s distress was too much, so she ran into the main room, desperate for anything. Seeing the blankets folded in the corner, an idea overtook her. Before she could overthink it, she grabbed two and ran back to spread them out over the trap door, making sure to hide every corner from view. She set her heavy textbooks on the edges just in case.

“Clarke, what-” The blood rushed from his face as they heard voices outside the door.

“Get over here,” she hissed, plopping down. He came over tentatively, only to have her reach out and drag him down next to her. The key turned in the lock. “Bellamy,” she turned his face to hers, willing her hands not to shake. “I need you to trust me.”

Then she kissed him.

She felt his body freeze in shock, but wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kept her lips pressed to his. Then, impossibly, his hand tangled into her hair and his mouth opened under hers, warm and sweet. A small sigh escaped her and she pulled him closer, the rest of the world fading away. She felt his fear, his urgency, his burden, and took it all, sharing it, trying to convey her thoughts without words. _You’re not in this alone._

A pointed cough startled them both, breaking the kiss. Clarke stared up into Bellamy’s wide eyes, fingers curling in his shirt for a second longer. She didn’t realize she was flat on her back on the blankets until Bellamy lifted to his knees, offering her a hand. Letting him pull her up, she didn’t bother to hide her flustered face as she looked up at the guards. She hadn’t even heard them walk in. Their expressions wavered between amusement and surprise, but nothing more.

A small, slightly hysterical giggle bubbled out, drawing every eye in the room to her. She pressed her face into Bellamy’s chest, hearing his heart thunder loudly under her ear. “Sorry. We just wanted some privacy. Didn’t hear the door.”

“I let them in,” Aurora said from the back, and Clarke blushed even hotter because _shit,_ she hadn’t intended for their first kiss to be _in front of his mother_ , let alone a complete farce. Her lips still tingled.

Bellamy’s arm slid around her waist, holding her close. “We weren’t expecting anyone,” he said reproachfully, sounding exactly like a boy who was annoyed at his makeout session being interrupted, and she hid her face behind her hair so they wouldn’t catch her smile.

“Inspection,” one of the guards said by way of explanation.

“Well, hurry up,” Bellamy said roughly. His arm was still around her, so she snuggled further into his grip. Keeping up pretenses, and all. They didn’t move as the others set about doing their usual search. When she finally peeked through her lashes, it didn’t escape her that several of them seemed reluctant to be very thorough after it was obvious they weren’t going to unwind from one another.

So she put her hand on Bellamy’s neck, bringing his face closer until she could whisper in his ear as if she was telling him a secret. “They’re ready to bolt. Make them more uncomfortable.”

Because she was flush against him, she felt the tiny shiver that ran through his body as her lips moved over his ear. The knowledge thrilled her to no end.

Then Bellamy said, “Is that an invitation?” and it was her turn to shudder, both at the words and the brush of his mouth along her skin. She knew he felt it because he chuckled and then, even more wonderful, placed a soft kiss under her ear. 

“Clarke, are you staying for dinner? I’m making your favorite.” They both looked up to find Aurora leaning against the doorway. Her words were casual, but also a clear dismissal of everyone who was not family.

Bellamy squeezed her shoulder. “She can’t resist your cooking, right princess?”

“Afraid not.” Clarke smiled and impulsively kissed his cheek, taking comfort in how he smiled back. 

One of the guards cleared his throat, motioning to the others, and they filed out without a word. She didn’t dare breathe until the door shut behind the last one, and even then they both stayed frozen for a full two minutes while Aurora listened at the door. Just when Clarke thought she might have lasting impressions from Bellamy’s fingertips, Aurora returned and pulled her up and into a swift hug.

“You dear, sweet girl,” she murmured. “ _Thank you._ ”

Clarke returned the embrace tightly, not able to do much besides nod. Over her shoulder, her eyes locked onto Bellamy. He was staring at her in overwhelming wonder and gratitude, and as soon as his mom let her go, he came forward and lifted her off her feet. “Brave princess,” he whispered, and she choked out a laugh against his neck.

When he finally set her down, they threw the blankets off and opened the secret door. “What happened?!” Octavia demanded, albeit quietly. 

“Clarke happened,” Bellamy answered, still a little in awe.

Aurora put an arm around her. “I think I have to insist that you have to stay for dinner now. It’s only fair I get to properly know my son’s girlfriend.”

Clarke’s face was on fire as Octavia let out a shriek, muffled only by Bellamy’s palm over her mouth at the last second. But he didn’t deny it, only ruffling his sister’s hair with a short laugh. And so she found herself eating dinner with his family that night while his hand clutched hers under the table and didn’t let go.

She was still lost in her thoughts on their way back to her quarters, so when he pulled her into a supply closet without any warning, she barely got out a squeak before his lips descended on hers. It was sloppy, and their teeth clacked together more times than she could count, but she clung to him and returned it just as fiercely until they were forced to part for air.

Bellamy dropped his forehead to hers, breathing hard. “Clarke, what you did-” His grip tightened. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough. But I swear I’m gonna try.” He peppered every inch of her face with kisses until she was breathless, then swooped down to reclaim her mouth. 

“And for what it’s worth, I did _not_ intend for our first kiss to be like that,” he said afterwards, “but in any case, it was pretty damn near perfect.”

Clarke grinned, giddy that _he’d thought about kissing her._

“Of course I’ve thought about kissing you,” he replied, mildly offended, and she blushed, realizing the words had slipped out. Smiling, Bellamy gathered her into his arms. “But now, I’m going to do more than just think about it.”

~~~~~~~~

The rumors began to fly within hours, as Clarke had known they would. There had to be at least one guard who wouldn’t keep his mouth shut. By the time she entered the medical unit the next morning, the stares were so obvious she had to bite her lip not to laugh when she caught Bellamy’s eyes. Then she thought of Bellamy biting it for her, as he’d done the night before, and the thought pretty much distracted her for the remainder of the morning.

Her mother kept throwing glances her way, glances she steadily ignored because she refused to make a big deal of it. Eventually she got pulled aside and answered the requisite questions. Yes, she was dating, and _yes,_ it was Bellamy Blake, and of course she was being careful, she was Abby Griffin’s daughter, after all.

That got a tiny smile out of her mom, though the worry in her eyes didn’t quite dissipate. “Mom, please don’t freak out,” Clarke sighed. “He makes me laugh, okay? He challenges me, makes me want to be better. That’s more than than I’ve ever been able to say about anyone else.”

Her mother finally relaxed a little, though she insisted that Clarke invite Bellamy and his mother over for dinner soon. Clarke promised to ask, but pointed out that their duties kept them fairly busy, so they might not be able to come together. “Also,” she added hesitantly, “I understand if you think he should be reassigned, but to be honest I’m more comfortable when he’s around.”

With her mother’s cautious approval, she fairly skipped to Mecha Station when her shift was done. Raven took one look at her and grinned wryly. “Don’t tell me. It’s true.”

“Afraid so.” 

“Took you long enough,” her friend said, perching on the table. “I’m guessing it’s all you wanted and more?”

“Something like that.” Clarke sat next to her with a sigh. She was dying to tell someone else about Octavia, but she never would. It wasn’t her secret to share. She understood what it had cost Bellamy to let her in, and she’d never betray that trust. “So are you ready for that Zero-G test?” 

“More than ever. I just want to get it over with, you know?”

“You’re going to crush it,” Clarke smiled. Glancing around, she took in the extra work uniform on the table. “Is someone else here?” To her surprise, Raven didn’t answer. She jumped off the table and returned to her work, eyes downcast. It only took seconds for her to realize. “Ooohhh!! Is it _Wick’s?_ ” Laughing, she ducked just in time to avoid the pencil that flew her way.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who’s in trouble,” she said, and Raven returned her rueful grin.

“He’s ridiculous. I don’t even know why I bother sometimes.”

“How long do you have?”

“Four months. You?”

“Six.” She released a breath. “God, this is so dumb. Like… how do you ask someone at _eighteen_ to be your life partner?” _How do I even know he’d want to be?_

“Gotta love the The Pact,” came Wick’s dry voice, and both girls jumped and sent equal glares his way. “Whoa. Sorry to interrupt.” He didn’t sound all that sorry, but when he smiled, Clarke couldn’t help but return it.

“No problem. How are you doing, Wick?”

“Could be worse, I suppose. I could be a girl, waiting to hit 18.” He raised his eyebrows at Raven, who only yawned pointedly.

“Don’t you have work to be screwing up?” She said curtly. 

Clarke stifled her giggle into her hand, hopping off the table. “Do you have any blank paper?” Raven wordlessly pointed to a stack on the side. She grabbed a sheet and settled into her usual spot, making herself comfortable while Wick lounged in a seat close to Raven. The two of them were so much fun to draw - until the air thickened with tension. Not something Clarke wanted to stick around for. Quietly, she dropped the paper into Wick’s lap and left, closing the door behind her.

On her way back to her quarters, she ran into Wells. “Hey stranger!” She hugged him tightly. 

“Hey.” He pulled back, eyes darting over her cheek. “I heard about… everything. I’m so sorry I haven’t been around.”

“It’s alright. You’re a husband now. You have priorities,” she said gently. “Besides, I’ve got… I’m not alone either,” she finished, cheeks red.

Wells grinned knowingly, cheering up a bit. “So I’ve heard. You seem happy, Clarke. Really.”

“I am.” She smiled honestly. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.” Wells squeezed her arm. “Come by some time for dinner, okay? Bring Bellamy with you.”

She raised an eyebrow and said dryly, “You’ll have to get in line behind mom.”

“Yikes. No way am I fighting that battle.” He laughed, leaving with a wave. She was still smiling when she rounded the corner to her quarters, only to be swept up in a kiss by Bellamy himself. 

“Hi princess.”

“Hi,” she sighed, her arms snaking around his waist. “I thought you were on shift still?”

“I just got off. It’s nearly five.” He kissed her jaw lightly. “So… your mom said there was something you wanted to ask me?”

It took a moment for her to remember. “Oh. Right. Well, she and dad, um… they wanted to know if you’d come over for dinner soon? They invited your mom as well but I told them you’re both busy so for now it’ll be just you. If you don’t mind, that is. You don’t have to or anything-”

Bellamy cut off her rambling with another kiss, smiling when they parted. “Of course I will.”

“Yeah?” When he nodded, she pulled him into a tight hug. “Thank you. I know it’s not the best way to spend a night, but thank you.”

“I dunno,” he mused. “I think it’s about time I met the parents, don’t you?”

Her laugh turned into a breathy sigh when his mouth found her earlobe, and then she fairly dragged him into the small closet that was quickly becoming her favorite place on the ship.

~~~~~~~~

Dinner came and went surprisingly quickly. Though Bellamy had been nervous, and more than a little stiff at first, it wasn’t long before she managed to ease the conversation away from him, keeping a tight hold on his hand under the table. Her father already had a soft spot for him, knowing he’d been the guard on duty the night Clarke was attacked. The same fact also seemed to keep her mother from poking her nose around too much. 

They invited him back, and to her complete surprise, Bellamy agreed without hesitation. And if her parents revealed maybe an extra baby story too many for her liking during the third dinner, well, it was worth it, if only to see him laugh.

Later, they were tucked into the closet once more and Bellamy kept peppering kisses right atop the small birthmark at the corner of her mouth. Her father had related, a little too gleefully in Clarke’s opinion, the way she had snuck into his paints as a kid and tried to cover up the brown dot after being teased in class.

“I would have taken a marker and put a dot on my face too,” Bellamy promised, his voice at her ear making her shiver. “And then I’d have beat up that little pipsqueak. On your behalf, of course.”

She giggled, fingers curling into his shirt. “I could have beaten him up if I wanted to. I just didn’t think of it fast enough.”

“Fine. I’d have held his arms back so you could take a punch. I bet you’ve got a mean right hook, princess.” He nibbled along her jaw for so long her eyes nearly rolled back.

“Deal,” she murmured. Lifting his head up, her mouth drew its own slow path across his cheek, pausing at every freckle along the way. “But you have your own beautiful dots already. You don’t need any more.” 

“I can give you freckles too if you want. Just find me a marker.”

Clarke laughed and kissed him again, feeling the familiar dullness where the doorknob carved into her hip. Once Bellamy’s hair was finally rucked up to her satisfaction, she sighed happily.

“I think I love you,” she breathed.

When Bellamy raised wide eyes to hers, she registered what she’d just said. “I…” She blinked, then smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “I don’t ‘think.’ I know. I love you, Bellamy.”

Bellamy framed her face in his large hands, staring down at her. After a long moment, he asked, “A-are you sure?” 

She couldn’t help it. A snort left her mouth. “Am I sure? Of course I’m sure! I don’t just go around saying _I love you,_ you know.”

“No, no, I know. Shit,” he rubbed a hand over his face, “I know that, Clarke.” He released a long breath. Then he smiled, so blinding in its joy that she was trapped in place just by the sheer force of it. “I love you,” he laughed. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeated endlessly, lifting her off her feet.

~~~~~~~~

The next couple of months passed quickly. Clarke was on cloud nine, practically floating from class to work and afterwards, to Bellamy’s quarters. He seemed to be in a similar mindset, smiling more often, joking with her during her shifts, often finding excuses to sneak her off for a few minutes so they could get lost in each other until it was absolutely time to go. 

In hindsight, she’d call it the calm before the storm. Because once they were up so high, there was nowhere to go but down.

And when they crashed, it was spectacular.

“I’m going to sneak O into the masquerade party,” Bellamy whispered to her one day while they were alone. “I’m on guard duty for it, so I’ll be able to keep an eye on her. And you’ll be there as my date, right?” 

Though his eyes sparkled with mischief, Clarke couldn’t help but worry. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

He sighed. “I just… I want to do something for her. Every day, she asks me to describe what I’ve seen, what the sky looked like. How wrong is that, Clarke? My little sister’s never seen the sky.” The ache in his voice made her pull him close. “I should be able to give her this one thing, shouldn’t I?” Bellamy asked softly, and she found herself nodding.

“Yeah. She deserves that much.” 

And so she let him show her the mask he’d procured, stood behind him when he told Octavia, laughed when she jumped around and squealed in delight, throwing her arms first around him, then around Clarke. 

Octavia put the mask on and beamed. “Well? Do I look mysterious?”

Bellamy only laughed and ruffled her hair, but Clarke looped her arm through hers and kissed her cheek. “Mysterious and beautiful. Already a heartbreaker.”

They took Octavia to the hall early, letting her stand by the window and take in the view. Her jaw hanging open, she put a hand to the glass in awe as they looked on. Clarke laid her head on Bellamy’s shoulder. “You did good,” she murmured, and he smiled back. 

Soon, more people crowded into the space, and though Octavia hung back shyly at first, Clarke soon snagged her own mask and pulled her right into the thick of it, twirling her around. Now and then she caught Bellamy's eyes, finding them twinkling in pure joy as he watched them, and them only. 

The party was in full swing when the ship’s alarm blasted through the music. Clarke immediately stopped dancing, shielding the other girl with her body. Her eyes searched the crowd, locking with Bellamy’s horrified stare. Blindly, she reached a hand back.

“Don’t let go, okay?” She said quietly. Octavia squeezed her fingers in reply.

Ever so slowly, they began winding through the others, inching towards the nearest exit. Clarke tried to time her movements with that of the guards. Each time she saw the guards pause to inspect IDs and remove masks, she moved further away. They had almost made it to Bellamy when another captain came up behind her and grabbed her wrist.

“Everyone’s required to stay in the main bay until cleared. That includes you.”

Clarke shook him off angrily. “I’m not an idiot. I understand what the alarms mean. But I have to get to medical. _Now.”_

“What’s going on?”

Her stomach dropped when her mom’s voice sounded behind her. Turning, she tried to silently plead for help, first with her mom, and then her dad, who'd appeared behind her. Bellamy was at her side moments later, trying to put more distance between Octavia and everyone else. 

But the scuffle had attracted the worst kind of attention. When an older guard approached them, Bellamy stiffened. Clarke recognized him as the commanding officer. His eyes were fixed on Octavia, and Octavia only. With one look and a quick motion of his hand, Clarke was yanked aside while they pulled Octavia forward. Bellamy put up a struggle only to be clubbed over the head with a baton. She didn’t realize it was her who had screamed until they looked over in surprise. She flailed wildly, elbows and legs shooting out until she connected with flesh, and the minute she was released she made her way to him, pulling him to his feet.

They both turned to locate Octavia, who was being held by two others. “She doesn’t have an ID,” the commander noted sharply.

“Please,” Bellamy pleaded hoarsely. “She’s… she’s my sister.” A shocked murmur ran through the crowd, but neither of them were paying much attention. All they could think about was the consequence of what he’d just admitted. “She’s a minor,” Bellamy said. “Just turned sixteen. Please, don’t-” His voice caught on a sob.

Clarke laced her fingers with his, standing shoulder to shoulder. She refused to let the worst happen to either of them, no matter what it took. The commander’s face was drawn in resignation, and more than a little astonishment, but finally he nodded.

“She'll be taken to lockup.” Before she could breathe in relief, he said, “But you are not a minor any longer, Mr. Blake.”

“No!” Clarke and Octavia’s twin protests sounded loudly before he’d even finished. Her grip on Bellamy tightened. _“No,”_ she said again, hating how her voice trembled.

Panicked, she looked around desperately for any kind of help. The answering gazes were shocked, in some cases sympathetic, and in others just envious, until she got to a familiar face. Raven had cocked an eyebrow and was pointedly tapping her chin with a finger - but not just any finger. Her ring finger.

It hit her in seconds. “Please,” she appealed directly to her parents. “We’re engaged.”

Bellamy’s soft intake of breath sounded next to her, but he didn’t say a word. She rushed on. “We were going to tell you tomorrow. He asked me before the masquerade. We were going to make it official on my birthday.”

Her parents still looked stunned, but she doubted it was at this news, just at how it had come about. And the fact that she was still moving forward _after_ this new information had come to light. Well… they didn’t know it wasn’t new to her. Still, they would fight for her, and by extension him, if it was what she wanted. Octavia smiled gratefully at her from between the guards. It only lasted seconds, though, as the head officer spoke up again.

“Where is your mother?” The question was directed at Bellamy.

His jaw tightened, and Clarke squeezed his fingers so tightly she thought she could feel bone. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “She said she had to deliver some repaired clothes to her customers. I haven’t seen her since.”

“Find her,” came the short bark, and several guards immediately left.

A fresh wave of unease swept through Clarke. There was no telling what they would do once they located her; no chance that Bellamy or Octavia would ever see her again.

“Wait.” Everyone turned surprised eyes to her mother. “When you find her, bring her before the Council,” she instructed. When the guards looked to the commander for confirmation, she added, “Her sentence will be put to a vote. Nothing is to happen to her before then. _Is that clear?”_

The steel in her voice brooked no argument. Clarke looked on helplessly as they left, and soon Octavia was taken from sight as well, to a cell of her own amongst the other delinquents. Bellamy was shaking with the effort not to lose his shit right then and there, and she hung onto him for dear life, refusing to budge from his side even when he was taken into another room and stripped of his rank, demoted to janitorial duty for the foreseeable future.

He didn’t bat an eyelid throughout the whole thing, only nodding stoically at each statement that came his way. It was her who kept interrupting, to ask the necessary questions. Could he return to his quarters? Had they found his mother? Was he allowed to see her just once? Was Octavia being treated properly?

After her fifth such question, the guard snapped back at her so viciously that Bellamy nearly had him up against the wall before she yanked him back, holding his arm in a death grip until he finally let go with a growl.

“I’d think twice before you insult my fiancee,” he said lowly. “Seeing as you’ve taken everything else from me, I might not hesitate twice to take you out next time.” He bared his teeth in a terrible smile. “What have I got to lose, right?”

It was only when they reached his quarters that he finally broke, crumpling into a corner as soon as the door locked behind them. Clarke slid down next to him, taking his shaking body into her arms. Her fingers slid through his hair and down his back, over and over, as he shook with silent sobs for countless minutes. They didn’t speak at all, not when the tears gave way to ragged breaths, not when she brought his face up and pressed her mouth to his, trying to offer wordless comfort in the only way she knew how. 

They sat there for what could have been hours; Clarke lost track of time. She just kept kissing him, kept murmuring nonsense as he clung to her like a lifeline every time the guilt wracked his body.

The pounding in her head from her own tears nearly made her miss the soft knock at the door. When it came again, louder, they were both up an instant. Her mother stood outside. Clarke only needed one look at her face to know the Council had come to a decision.

“When?” Bellamy asked roughly.

“Tomorrow morning.”

He turned away, a large hand covering his face. Clarke wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing her face between his shoulder blades in silent apology. 

“I’m so sorry,” her mom began.

“Don’t.” Clarke didn’t open her eyes. “Just go. Please.”

The door closed, and they were alone once more.

~~~~~~~~

Bellamy didn’t shed a single tear when his mom was floated the next day. He only hung onto Clarke’s hand with a fierce grip that belied the turmoil underneath his blank face. She understood why - he wanted to give no shred of satisfaction to the people who had sentenced her, who had enforced the rules that doomed his sister from birth.

The next few days were spent in a dazed routine. Clarke barely paid attention to her classes, irritated by all the stares thrown her way but mostly just concerned about Bellamy. He’d taken to his janitorial duties quietly - too quietly. It scared her. 

It came to a head when she walked into his quarters one day and found him sitting on the floor, a blank look on his face. The bright red seeping through the loosely bound cloth on his hand sent her into a panic.

“Bellamy!” She gasped, dropping to her knees in front of him. “What happened?”

He lifted despairing eyes to meet hers. “I punched a wall.”

She carefully unwound the cloth, hissing at the fresh scrapes. “Jesus, Bellamy. Why?”

“So I wouldn’t punch the councillors instead.”

There was nothing to say to that. It took all of Clarke’s strength to drag him into the tiny bathroom, making him sit while she dug around for antiseptic. By some dumb luck, she’d come straight from medical, and so her kit had what she needed to properly clean his hand and rebandage it. When she was done, she closed her kit with shaking hands, ready to scold him when she turned around.

Without a word, Bellamy leaned forward, his arms coming around her waist as he pressed his face into her stomach. The fight drained out of her within seconds. Sighing, she laid her head atop his, running her fingers through his hair as she felt tears soak into her shirt.

“What’ve I done?” Bellamy’s voice was scratchy when he finally spoke. “I can’t believe I was so careless. All this time, my mom raised me to be better, to keep Octavia safe, and all I did was get her killed-”

Clarke knelt in front of him, taking his face into her hands. “Bellamy, listen to me,” she said fiercely. “You did _not_ do this, alright? The Council floated your mother, not you. They made the rules, they enforce them. And Octavia’s still alive-”

He barked something like a laugh. “What kind of life is that? From one cell to another.”

“No,” Clarke insisted. “You gave her a life, Bellamy. Sixteen years, you kept her alive. As long as she’s alive, she’s still got a chance. You have to keep fighting. Please.”

“Why? There’s nothing left for me.”

“ _I’m_ here. Doesn’t that count for something?” She asked, voice cracking. “I need you, alright? You’re the only one who ever- who I’ve ever-” Because she was out of words, she simply kissed him, silently pleading. It took almost a minute, and she was beyond terrified, but then his mouth answered hers, and she crawled into his lap and remained there for a long time.

After that, Clarke made it a point to stay whether he wanted her there or not. It wasn’t hard to make arrangements with her mother to reschedule her shifts in medical, promising to make up the time once things were… normal. She hated that word. Nothing would ever be normal again.

She spent more time in his quarters than she did in her own. Bellamy often found her waiting outside his door at the end of the day, food in hand. And when she didn’t have food, she had the ingredients, cooking from the recipes she could remember. One day she attempted to replicate a meal his mother used to make, solely from memory, and even though she was sure she’d messed it up, Bellamy wolfed it down like it was a decadent buffet, burying his face into her shoulder afterwards with a murmured thanks.

They spent every night wound together tightly on his cot, limbs tangled until morning forced them apart. 

Clarke didn’t bring up anything about their impending marriage, assuming Bellamy’s silence meant he didn’t want to think about it or didn’t particularly care. And in the face of everything, it was pretty far back in her mind too.

But then one day he softly said, “You don’t have to marry me, you know.”

Her head snapped up from where it had been resting on his shoulder. They were lying on the cot in the middle of the night, neither one able to sleep. In the darkness, she couldn’t see his face. As she tried to figure out how to answer, he continued on. “I mean, I wouldn’t blame you. If you didn’t want to. Seeing as-”

“Do you not want to marry me?” She demanded.

“What?” Now it was Bellamy who leaned up to switch on the lamp. “Clarke, of course I do. But-”

Her lips cut him off, pressing hard against his, her tongue darting into his mouth urgently. She didn’t stop until she felt his arm slide around her back, his mouth responding to hers just as needily.

“Then that’s that,” she said afterwards. “I’m yours and you’re mine. Got it?”

“Yeah, princess. I got it.” Bellamy was smiling when he kissed her again. 

~~~~~~~~

They decided not to wait until her birthday. Technically there were no rules that mandated they had to - only that once girls hit eighteen, the clock began ticking. So by mutual agreement, they decided on a simple, quiet ceremony in her parents’ quarters two months before she officially turned eighteen. Raven and her parents served as witnesses, and with a few quiet words and an exchange of simple gold bands, it was done.

Nothing changed between them after that, other than the fact that she now and then called him husband when she was tired or content or both; he didn’t seem to mind. The only other difference was that they now had their own quarters, complete with a bedroom and living room. It was strange, but not unpleasant. Just different.

Clarke had returned to her parents’ rooms to get the last of her things when she heard them enter, arguing in hushed tones. Pausing, she flattened herself against the wall and inched closer to the doorway, trying to listen in. A quiet horror took hold as she listened to her father recount his findings - not enough air, too many people.

The Ark was dying.

She stayed there, stiff as a statue, until she heard her parents leave again for work. Shaking, she made it all the way back to her quarters empty-handed before curling into a ball on the bed. That was how Bellamy found her that evening, hands clutched together and tears in her eyes.

He immediately slid in next to her, pulling her into his arms. “What happened?”

“I overheard my parents talking. My dad made a discovery… There’s not enough air left on the Ark, not for the amount of people that live here.” She looked up into his shocked eyes. “Bell, the Ark won’t be sustainable much longer.”

“Can it be fixed?”

She shook her head. “Not sure. It didn’t sound like it.” Her breath rattled. “Mom doesn’t want him to say anything yet. He… he wants to tell everyone. I don’t know what to do.”

Bellamy’s arms tightened around her, soothing over her hair. “Shh, it’s okay. We’ll figure something out, princess. We will, okay?”

But neither of them had expected for things to progress as quickly as they did.

Clarke’s father was taken just a day later, and Bellamy could barely hold her back when the news reached them. The grief overtook, drowning her like nothing she’d ever known, because she already knew what his sentence would be before it was made official. Bellamy was there through it all, refusing to let go, and she clung to him like an anchor as the rest of her world began to crumble.

Her relationship with her mother was all but broken. Nobody else had known about her father’s intentions, she was certain. And so it only left her with one conclusion - her mom had talked. 

For a week after her dad was floated, Clarke felt nothing. Her tears flowed non-stop for the first day; after that, she was empty, moving through her day without even really noticing. She huddled under the covers at night, burrowing into Bellamy’s side, and sometimes throughout the day when he came home early. She skipped her meals, barely registering how her stomach growled in the silence, just wishing the ache would stop or swallow her whole. 

On the fourth evening, Bellamy returned with an armful of groceries and all but dragged her from bed. Gentle but firm, he forced her to sit at their small kitchen counter while he cooked and practically spoonfed her, all the while softly reading a story from the mythology book. 

She woke up the next morning to a small note taped to a plastic container by her bed. _This better be empty by by noon._ The container was washed and dried when he walked in at lunchtime to find her sitting on the couch. He glanced at it without a word and plopped down next to her, opening his bag and sharing half his sandwich. They ate mostly in silence, but at the end Clarke tucked herself under his arm and pressed a kiss directly over his heart in silent thanks, feeling his mouth brush over her forehead in reply.

When they crawled into bed one night a couple weeks later, Bellamy surprised her with a ferocious kiss that left her head spinning. It was more than welcome, and left every part of her tingling in new ways, but she was still surprised by the unexpectedness of it. 

Breaking apart for air, she stared up at him in slight awe. “What was that for?” She panted.

His forehead dropped to hers. “I just… Don’t leave me, okay?”

“What? How could you even think that?” Astonished, she cradled his cheek. “Bellamy, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Not intentionally, I know. But you’ve been walking around like a zombie for weeks, Clarke. I barely get you to eat, and when I’m not home I don’t know if you even realize time is passing,” he said sadly. “I’m _so_ sorry for what happened, you know that. But… I still need you.” 

Clarke wrapped her arms around him tight, their lips finding each other again. “I need you too,” she whispered. “You’re all I have left, Bellamy.” 

“Then stay with me, please,” he whispered. “We can do this together. Have faith in me. In _us._ ”

“I will,” she promised, kissing him everywhere she could reach. “I will, Bellamy. Always.”

“Always,” he agreed.

He kissed her again, sweet and coaxing, their tongues colliding as her fingers scraped through his hair. Bellamy lay fully atop her, pressing her into the mattress, and when his mouth left hers to seek further skin, she arched and heard herself ask for more.

They didn’t turn on the lights as they slowly peeled off layer after layer of clothing. Her breath hitched and stuttered as Bellamy mapped every inch of newly revealed skin with his hands and mouth, drawing sound after sound from her own lips into the dark. When she was down to her bra and panties and he wore only his briefs, he paused. “Clarke, we don’t have to-”

“No, please.” She leaned up to kiss his swollen mouth again, urging his hands to move lower, press harder. “Please. I need this. I need _you._ ”

And she did. She wanted to feel something again, anything other than the empty ache that had clawed at her body for the past few weeks. She knew Bellamy understood when he reclaimed her mouth, his touch losing its delicacy and becoming more insistent until all she could think and feel and hear was him and her and the rustle of sheets. She moaned at the feeling of him hot and heavy against her, a wonderful weight atop her as she circled her arms and legs around him and urged him forward.

And though it hurt at first she just held onto him, relishing the pain, because if there was pain then it meant she was alive, and this was real, _they_ were real, and she was going to keep Bellamy if it took everything she had. She shushed his apologies with her mouth and soon enough the sensations heightened beyond anything she’d ever known, and he was there the entire way, urging her to let go and fall, ready to catch her when she finally did. 

They spent the rest of the night and much of the next few days learning new things about each other, and slowly, Clarke felt herself begin to inch out of her self-imposed shell. She continued studying at home while Bellamy was at work, even accepted a few of Raven’s careful visits, and did her best to get back to her life, however difficult it was.

~~~~~~~~

Three weeks before her birthday, Bellamy came back from a shift muttering to himself, forehead scrunched in thought. Clarke had to repeat her question twice before he even looked up. Dropping the spatula on the counter, she went to him.

“Something’s wrong,” he whispered, and she tensed instantly. Before she could ask, he pulled her into the bedroom. “Everyone’s been acting strange the past couple days, and now the Council’s having all these extra-secret meetings… something’s not right, Clarke.”

“Strange? How do you mean?”

He raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know… jumpy, skittish. The adults barely talk to each other in plain sight anymore, and when they do it’s about the stupidest crap, nothing remotely official. At first I thought I was being paranoid, but then I overheard them talking about the kids in lock-up, like they were doing a head count or something… since when have they ever cared how many kids they put away?”

"How did you even manage to hear any of this?"

He shrugged bitterly. "No one pays attention to janitors."

Clarke sat there holding his hand, an odd feeling sweeping through her. “You’re right,” she said finally. “Something’s up. We need to get a closer look.”

It took some convincing, but she finally got him to agree to let Raven in on it. She barely batted an eyelid, only asking in the next breath if they needed a hacker. While she set to it, Clarke decided to snoop on her own. Her mother was so glad to see her she didn’t even bother questioning why she was visiting, just asking her to stay for dinner.

It didn’t take Raven long to figure out they were readying a dropship, and Clarke’s mother let slip that her father’s news about the lack of oxygen had sent the Council into panic mode. Between those pieces of news, Bellamy put two and two together in no time. 

“They’re sending the kids out in the ship. Use them as fucking _guinea pigs_ for the ground.” His eyes were wide with horror. “Octavia…”

Clarke grabbed his arm before he could lunge for the door. “Bellamy, wait! Hold on. You’re right, okay? I agree with you. But… what are you going to do? They’ll be on you before you even get close to her, and even if you do, then what? Where will you go?”

“I can’t just sit here and do nothing,” he snapped.

“I know that. Just give me a second to think…” She looked at Raven. “Does the ship have any restrictions? Capacity or weight-wise?”

“Not that I can tell. Why?”

She chewed her lip, glancing at Bellamy. “We need to get on that ship. It’s the only way we can get to Octavia.”

“Whoa Clarke, hang on,” Raven protested. “You don’t even know for sure where they’re sending them yet.”

Clarke met Bellamy’s steady gaze. “Can’t be worse than here. Besides,” she added, “Bellamy’s right. It’s likely the ground anyways. It’s the only realistic chance they’ve got.”

He sat next to her with a heavy sigh, hands pressed to his forehead. “I… I still have some contacts in the guards. I can try to pull some strings, find someone who needs a favor. But Clarke…” He looked up miserably. “I can’t ask you to do this.”

“You’re not asking. I’m telling you, I’m coming. End of story.”

“She’s _my_ sister, my responsibility,” he argued.

“Our responsibility,” she corrected gently. “In case you’ve forgotten, you’re kind of stuck with me now.”

Bellamy studied her for a long moment, finding no doubt, only determination and a familiar stubbornness. With a hint of a smile, he silently hugged her close.

“Hell if I’m letting you two have all the fun,” Raven piped up. They looked over in surprise as she raised an eyebrow. “Obviously I’m coming too.”

Before Clarke could ask, Bellamy cut in. “But you’re over eighteen already, aren’t you? They’ll float you if you’re caught.”

“You underestimate me.”

He held up his hands in surrender, too tired to fight another uphill battle, and turned back to Clarke. “What about you? How will you get onboard?”

“I think I have an idea that’ll get me sent to lock-up just in time.” 

~~~~~~~~

Two nights before the planned launch, Clarke stayed twined with Bellamy in the dark. They pressed against each other, sometimes urgent, sometimes reverent, always loving. Promises were made, both silently and in short whispers, and imprinted upon each other’s skin like a brand, like tattoos only they knew about; leaving marks that couldn’t be seen, that wouldn’t ever fade.

The next morning, she kissed him goodbye like she would any other day, refusing to make a big deal of it. “I’ll see you around,” she said, and he tapped her nose and replied _see you princess_.

Clarke’s plan was simple: reveal her dad’s discovery about the Ark’s air problem to the rest of the population. She didn’t actually have to do it; she just had to discuss it, in plain hearing of the most talkative of girls from her class, knowing they’d take care of the rest. Sure enough, guards found her lingering by the communications bay mere hours later. She let herself be marched to the cells, ignoring her mother’s protests along the way.

“Bring her to the Council, please, they-”

“No,” she cut in sharply. “I’m a minor. Regulations dictate I go to lock-up.” 

As she’d hoped, the eldest guard stiffened. “I know the regulations,” he retorted, and wouldn’t hear a single word from anyone else.

As soon as they reached the line of doors, she began peeking through each small window, trying to locate Octavia. But they were moving too fast, and all she caught was a snatch of brown hair here, a pair of green eyes there, before she was pushed inside her own tiny cell. The door slammed shut behind her, cloaking her in the musty darkness, and she swallowed down the fear rising inside. _Just one night,_ she thought to herself. _You can do this._

She distracted herself mostly with memories; of Bellamy, of Octavia, of her dad. Wells. Her throat closed when she realized he’d never know the truth. It was better that way; he didn’t need to be involved in this mess. He had his own life now. Clarke curled up against the wall, letting herself relive the previous night with Bellamy, his hands ghosting along her body, his low voice in her ear; the way he’d enfolded her in his arms, neither of them willing to sleep, just wanting to be with the other. Her eyes fluttered shut as she tried to pretend she was back there once more.

When she awoke, there was shouting outside. Blinking rapidly, she peeled her cheek off the cool tile and sat up. Footsteps sounded outside, and then her door was opening. A pair of guards hauled her up, ignoring her questions. Beyond them, she saw many of the other doors open, cots empty, and she realized the kids were being taken to the dropship. A band snapped down on her wrist, but before she could focus, she felt the bite of a needle in her neck and her world went dark.

When she woke, she was on the dropship, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. "She's awake," someone called.

Clarke sat up in a panic, her eyes drifting to the bolted door. Scrambling up, she began to bang on the steel. _No no no, Bell-_

“Clarke!” She whirled around, only registering grateful dark eyes and endless freckles before she was lifted off her feet in a bear hug.

“Bellamy,” she breathed. She clutched at him tightly, burying her face into his shoulder. Tears pricked her eyes as she whispered countless _thank yous_ into the cool leather of his jacket, sinking into his arms.

When he finally set her down, he planted a hard kiss on her mouth, smiling in relief. She clung to him a moment longer until a pointed cough made him chuckle and draw aside. Octavia stared back, eyes bright. “Thank goodness,” Clarke murmured, drawing her into a fierce hug. “Are you alright? Did they-”

“I’m not hurt,” Octavia assured her. Pulling back, she put her hands on her hips. “You’re both insane, you know that, right?” They exchanged grins. When Bellamy raised his hand to brush her hair back, Octavia shrieked. “You got _married?!_ Without me?”

A noise escaped Clarke, the closest she’d come to laughing in weeks, and she hugged Octavia again, smiling at Bellamy over her shoulder. 

“Calm down, I’ll tell you all about it,” came a familiar voice, and they sprang apart to see Raven standing there with her usual grin. Clarke grabbed her in a quick embrace, not surprised a single bit when Wick appeared out of nowhere seconds later.

Then the alarms began to blare and they strapped into their seats, taking stock of the alternately irritated and curious faces around them. Her eyes drifted back to Bellamy soon enough. Leaning closer, she traced the growing bruise on his cheek. 

“I’m fine,” he murmured, catching her hand gently. “Just a scrape.”

“Was it part of the favor?” She kept her voice low.

Bellamy swallowed, jaw tightening. When his eyes met hers, they were pained. “Something like that.”

She knew he couldn’t explain, not here, in the midst of this chaos. And it was obvious that it had been something even he wasn’t fully okay with, despite his need to be with his sister. But they’d both had to make choices to get to this point.

So she laced her fingers with his and brushed her mouth over his knuckles. “It had to be done,” she said softly.

He released a quiet breath. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Had to be done.” Their fingers tightened as they heard the timer count down. Bellamy dropped his forehead to hers. “Clarke, whatever happens-”

“We’ll get through it,” she assured him, brushing his mouth in a quick kiss. “Together.”

He smiled. “Yeah. Together.”

They held onto each other as the countdown finished, and as Clarke took a second look around the dropship and the multitude of gazes staring back, her breath caught, then fled in a rush. This was it.

They were going to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter is an epilogue, set from a third person POV several months later when the Ark finally comes down.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months later, the Ark crashes on Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who read/commented on this! I was so blown away by all the feedback. I switched POVs and tenses for this epilogue. Really hope you enjoy! :)

It’s summer when the Ark crash-lands on Earth. Abby spends an extra moment inhaling gulps of sweet air, staring at the miles of lush foliage that surrounds them; close enough to touch, feel, taste. Then she and Kane gather the survivors from their station and make their way through the sweltering heat, peeling off layer after layer, until finally they spot walls in the distance. Their pace quickens.

The wall has watchers, they soon find out. The boy aiming his gun down at them doesn't seem to have any inclination to lower it. So the group waits uncertainly as the gate creaks open. She's not sure what she was expecting, but it's not the two girls who step outside. They’re young, Abby thinks. _So_ young. Despite the lack of wristbands, there’s no doubt in her mind that they were part of the original group sent down here. She wishes she could remember all their names, but that’s simply not possible.

One girl is blonde, like Clarke was. _Is,_ her heart corrects. The other has red hair. Both have scars that peek out from under their shirtsleeves, stark against pale skin. Their blank faces give nothing away, but each holds a rifle on her shoulder - partly casual, partly warning. Their eyes are hard and unforgiving. Abby wonders how they can look so old when their bodies are not. 

The blonde keeps a tight hold on her gun, sending the redhead back into the camp with a few quick instructions. Beyond them, Abby can see a few curious heads turn their way before resuming the hustle and bustle of what is clearly a normal day on Earth. Her mind is still spinning, senses invaded by dirt and grass and plants and _fresh air,_ but her heart can’t stop wondering, hoping against all hope that she’s found her child again.

It’s not long before she spots them. The pair approaches from the distance, unaware of who’s outside the gate, and so they are unguarded and open as they walk close together, shoulders purposefully brushing with each step. There’s an ease to their movements that speaks of quiet strength, shared experiences that have only brought them closer. 

There is no mistaking the dark curls and broad build of the boy her daughter fell in love with; and then there’s Clarke, her long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, wayward strands curling around her face in the heat. In nothing but loose shirts and tattered jeans, they almost look like kids again.

As they near, though, Abby finds the details that remind her they had to grow up too fast; that they stopped being kids long before they snuck onto the dropship, long before they ever decided the ground would be a better place than the ship they called home for so many years.

The boy, Bellamy - Aurora’s son, Clarke’s _husband_ \- moves with the surety of a soldier, head held high. He carries a rifle like it’s a part of him, and there’s no doubt in her mind that he’s already had to put it to use far too much. The sunlight glints off the dark pistol tucked into Clarke’s own waistband. It’s not the gun’s existence that scares Abby - more so the fact that it seems to live at her daughter’s hip permanently. Scars cover them both, speaking volumes of what they’ve had to endure. Her eyes linger on the dark red laceration that announces itself blatantly on Clarke’s cheekbone. And yet, though they both look tired, so tired - they’re far from broken.

Clarke twirls a small knife in her left hand - which still has a gold band encircling her third finger, matching that of the boy beside her. Abby can’t decide what’s brighter - the blade, or the smile on Clarke’s face when she looks at Bellamy.

It’s only when the redhead interrupts them, points to where she stands, that they both halt in unison. Their expressions are twin masks of pain and guilt, and it nearly breaks her that she’s the catalyst for it - she’s a reminder of the past they’ve clearly tried to forget.

They exchange a glance, coming to an understanding so fast that Abby knows how deeply their bond runs from a single glance. Carefully, their strides resume, but their faces are closed off now, no hint of the easiness from earlier when they straighten their shoulders, lift their chins, and settle into their second skin as leaders. Because they are, of course, the leaders of this home they built.

“They’ve changed,” Kane murmurs, almost to himself.

She nods. “Our doing.”

Bellamy stops just a few feet away. Surprising them both, her daughter continues until they’re no more than inches apart, and then they’re embracing tightly, wordlessly. It’s swift, and it ends sooner than she’d like, but she’ll take it. Then Clarke returns to stand next to Bellamy, her hand slipping into his in the most natural of motions. Side by side, their eyes sweep through the crowd of survivors from the Ark.

“There are other stations, possibly more survivors,” Kane says from behind her. “We’re not sure where they landed, or who else there is, but…”

“We saw,” Bellamy confirms. “We were tracking the progress when the ship split. Patrols were sent out this morning to see what they could find.”

“Thank you,” Abby says gratefully.

“Tracking them with what?” Is what Kane asks, and she winces a little, wondering how they’ll take it. But again, they surprise her by flashing smiles, a little secretive but mostly just proud.

There’s a pointed cough, and then a dark-haired girl sidles up next to Clarke. _Raven._ She waves, a sarcastic little wiggle of her fingers. “With me,” is all she says. One of her legs is encased in a complicated-looking brace, but Abby knows better than to ask about that.

Just moments later, a taller boy follows her out, the blonde shadow on his jaw aging him even further. “Seriously, you mechanics need to stop thinking you can just-” He stops mid-sentence as he finally drags his gaze from her to the newcomers, and then blinks. His smile is a tad feral. “So,” he drawls. “You slowpokes finally made it.” 

The way he slings an arm protectively over Raven’s shoulder tells her he’s not all that excited about it. Raven only smirks, then taps Clarke, leaning in to whisper into her ear. Clarke nods and says a few clipped words that are too low to hear, and Raven elbows her companion until he swings around with her still under his arm. Together, they disappear back into the camp. 

Clarke and Bellamy trade another glance. _All yours,_ her expression seems to say.

He turns back to the group, his voice strong and steady. “You’re welcome to stay until you’ve recovered. We have enough food to share for about a week more. Then, you’ll need to start carrying your weight if you intend to remain.” Now the two girls step forward again. “Monroe and Harper will show you to the empty tents, and others will be by shortly with supplies. If you need anything else, let them know and they’ll find me or Clarke.”

Now Clarke speaks up. “Rhea will take any who are injured to medical. I’ll be by as soon as possible.” Her mouth curls wryly as her eyes lock onto Abby’s. “Though, you probably won’t need me that badly, with the chief medical officer in your midst.”

A small tinkle of laughter goes through the group at that, and the tension in the air eases. Abby steps aside with Kane, ushering the rest of their group through the gate behind the girls as needed. They’re the last to go in, followed only by Clarke and Bellamy, and the huge gate swings shut behind them.

Just as they’re all wondering what’s next, a small figure streaks through camp, her dark hair flying wildly behind her.

“Bellyyyy!!!” Her shriek echoes for miles.

 _Oh my god,_ Abby thinks, _our kids have kids._ She’s unsure whether to be thrilled or terrified.

Nobody else seems bothered by this. If anything, they hasten to move out of the way with grins that say this is a normal occurrence. In astonishment, Abby watches as Clarke snorts and holds out her hand knowingly. Bellamy passes the rifle off with a wide grin before crouching to accept the tiny form that launches herself at him.

“Ooof! Princess munchkin, you’re getting bigger by the day." He noisily kisses her cheek and stands, any previous stress evaporating in seconds. “What ever are we feeding you these days?”

The girl giggles and wraps stubby arms around his neck, whispering in his ear. Bellamy’s brow creases and he nods thoughtfully, making encouraging noises as he listens. “Mhmm. Mhm. You don’t say?” He turns falsely accusing eyes to Clarke. “Have you been sneaking her extra servings of dessert?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Clarke is fighting a smile with every breath. “Though you know, all my strawberries disappeared last night when I left to help Monroe. And _you_ were the only one around.” She hums. “Anna, what do you think?”

The girl giggles mischievously, but her smile fades as soon as her gaze lands on Abby and Kane. They both wave and offer smiles of their own. Abby has a sudden urge to pinch her cheeks. Bellamy follows her line of sight and steps closer.

“These are old friends, Anna,” he says gently - and generously. “Can you say hello?”

“Hello,” she whispers, and then promptly hides her face in Bellamy’s shirt. He chuckles and brushes a kiss to her hair.

“She’s like that with everyone,” Clarke grins and sets the rifle aside before taking Anna from him and settling her on her hip in a smooth, practiced motion. “Give it a day, and she’ll be attached to your leg like she was always there.” She kisses Anna’s forehead so lovingly that Abby feels her throat tighten. “Come on, you. Let’s go round up the others, hmm? Us princesses gotta stick together.” She throws a wink over her shoulder at Bellamy and strolls away, still talking to the girl in her arms.

Abby watches Bellamy gaze after them, the tenderness completely transforming his face. If she ever needed more proof that he was completely in love with her daughter, it’s practically smacking her in the face at the moment. Then he sighs and crouches to pick up his gun, and when he stands he’s back to his usual self. 

“We haven’t gotten any ideas to have our own, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he says after a second. 

“I wasn’t worr-” She stops. She doesn’t know if anything she’ll say is the truth. But Bellamy seems to understand, eyes softening just the slightest.

“It’s alright. None of us are fanciful enough to think that’s possible. Not right now, the way things are.” He smiles sadly. “But she’s ours in every way that matters. They all are. We couldn’t leave them behind, not after…” There’s a long pause as he trails off, eyes clouded. Then he clears his throat, and his voice is steadier when he finishes, “We just couldn’t.”

“Behind where?” Kane’s voice is soft.

A jerk of the head is all they get, towards the mountain that looms in the distance. The weariness that overtakes his face is sudden and haunting - another clear reminder to Abby that they have no idea what’s happened in the past months. She’s not sure she’ll ever know.

The silence is broken by several high-pitched shouts, and it’s not long before a herd of kids filters through camp, apparently having settled in easily. Bellamy’s expression eases instantly at the sight of them. Two boys flank Clarke when she returns, hand in hand with Anna. One boy has a pair of goggles hanging from his neck, and after a quick word he dashes off to jump among the kids, yelling in fake surrender when they pile atop him.

Clarke and the newcomer stop by Bellamy again. “Monty and Jasper volunteered to help with the afternoon class,” she says. “Figured you could use a hand.”

“Thanks, that’d be great. By the way, have you seen O?”

“She said something about scouting with Lincoln and getting those herbs Clarke needed for the Grounder recipes,” Monty replies. “They’ll probably be back within the hour.”

“Good. Well, let’s go save Jasper then,” Bellamy grins and swings Anna up over his shoulders, pressing a kiss to Clarke’s cheek before the two boys walk away.

Kane grasps Abby’s arm, murmuring about checking in on the others, and leaves her alone with Clarke. They don’t speak for a few minutes, just stand there and watch as the small community resumes its afternoon, like cogs in a wheel. 

“You’ve done well here,” she finally says, and she means it. 

“We did our best,” Clarke replies softly, and there’s an ache in her expression that makes Abby want to hold her, shield her from every horror, except she knows that time is well past. She tamps down the instinct just as Clarke says, “I didn’t see the Chancellor among your group.”

It’s her turn to look away when her daughter turns a shrewd gaze upon her. “Someone had to manually disengage the main station when the automation sequence failed. Thelonious took it upon himself, and…” She isn’t sure how to finish it, how exactly to tell her daughter that her best friend refused to leave his father, but Clarke is already nodding briskly.

“Wells stayed,” she says, and there’s a note of pride in her voice even underneath the misery. “Can’t say I’m that surprised. I might have done the same.” When Abby grasps her hand tightly for a few seconds, Clarke shakily adds, “I don’t know that he would have enjoyed Earth anyways.” It’s just a glimpse of the terrors her daughter is hiding deep within. 

Clarke sniffs and wipes her face, her head jerking side to side in a quick _no,_ but Abby realizes it’s not directed at her. It’s for Bellamy, who’s still over with the kids but is keeping an eye Clarke all the same. It warms her a little, to know that someone has Clarke’s back, that someone’s there when it all becomes too much. In hindsight she always knew that, but still, it’s nice to actually observe it for a change.

Clarke sighs and when she glances back, the sadness lingers but it’s not overwhelming. Just another thing she carries with her every day. “And Dana?”

Abby shakes her head at the mention of his wife. “She was on another section that split off on entry. I’m not sure…”

“We’ll find her,” Clarke says definitively. “Any major injuries among your section?” She asks.

“Nothing too severe that I saw. Bumps and bruises and the like, a possible fracture. Do you have… well, what exactly _do_ you have?”

Her daughter grins. “More than you’d think. You can poke around medical all you like. We also have some Grounder medicines that have been shared with us. They’re surprisingly helpful.”

“Grounder?” Abby repeats, puzzled.

“Oh. Sorry. There are others here, others who survived long before we came down.” She offers a tight shrug but no other explanation. “We’ve made a truce of sorts.”

“I see. That’s great, Clarke, really. All this… it’s more than we could have ever hoped for when they were sent down.”

“They were sent down here to die,” Clarke corrects. A hard look crosses her face, and even though she smiles it’s all steel. “But they didn’t. They lived.”

“Clarke-”

Her daughter shakes her head and holds up a hand. “Look, none of us wants to reopen old wounds, okay? But we meant what we said earlier. One week, and then you either learn to work with us, or build your own campsite nearby. If you want anything else, you’ll have to bring it up to myself or Bellamy and we’ll discuss it with the others.”

Despite herself, Abby smiles. “Like a council?”

“Not exactly. We’re trying to learn from the past.” Clarke shrugs. “Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses.” As she watches the kids, her mood lifts. “It’s not easy, but we’re making it work. And for what it’s worth… I’m glad you’re here. Whether you decide to stay or not.”

Abby nods and hugs her once more, because she can’t help it, but Clarke doesn’t seem to mind. And she realizes, she feels the same way. Even if they do separate again, it’s enough to know that her daughter has built her own life, become someone in her own right. The same goes for the others around camp, the kids who have been given a second chance, and even some of the adults who ache for a fresh start. They won’t waste it, won’t squander away the opportunity in front of them.

She watches Clarke rejoin the others, sees the smile on her face as she wraps her arms around Bellamy from behind and rests her chin on his shoulder. He turns his head to whisper something into her ear that earns him a light smack in reply even as they both laugh.

They live, and it’s enough.


End file.
